Disclaimer: The TV show F.R. I. E. N. D. S belongs to Bright, Kauffman and Crane. This is a non-profit work of Fanfiction.

The story takes place after TOW Ross is Fine. Rachel returns to talk to Ross after the horrific party, and then she must decide between him and Joey. Who will she choose?

The One Where Rachel Decides

"Honey," Rachel pulled on Joey's arm, and the two of them came to a stop outside Ross' apartment. "I need to go back inside...I need to talk to him –"

"Are you sure?" he asked, and she almost melted at the concern he always managed to inject into his voice without even trying. "Maybe I could be the one to talk to him, settle it man to man...?"

"Oh, sweetie, no," for some reason, she couldn't help choking up at the thought of what she was about to do. "It's us, you know? Ross and Rachel. It's been seven years; I think it's time we finally sat down and talked."

Talk. The word seemed to echo around her in the empty corridor, driven by the wind. The leaves of the solitary potted plant in the hallway seemed to rustle with the word. It had been their disability to talk about the major things, to sit down and converse like adults, that had finished the relationship that she had thought would last forever.

She was older now, wiser and more mature. She could now see that it wasn't just his fault that they had split - but hell if she would ever let the world know that she felt that way. In true Rachel fashion, she would deny it to her last breath, especially when it came to her and Ross.

Joey had been silent for a while, looking at the door to Ross' apartment. His eyes, though, were unfocused; she was sure that he was taking a trip down memory lane as well.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath, and if his voice was a bit deeper or tinged with the slightest amount of hesitation, she pretended not to notice. They were Ross and Rachel – they were as likely to talk it out like adults, as to end up having sex with each other on the couch like a pair of teenagers.

No. She told herself, firmly. It was little things like these that had contributed to her breakup with Ross – she wouldn't allow the same thing to happen with Joey.

"Sweetie," she said firmly, "look at me." Meeting Joey's eyes with her own, she continued, "I promise, we'll talk and that'll be all. I'll be home before you know it."

He smiled at her words, his eyes lighting up. She couldn't help her own smile from growing – that was the thing with Joey; he could always keep her smiling and happy.

"Ok, then," he replied, giving her a brief hug before making his way to the lift. "I'll be waiting."

She watched him go with a smile on her face, but it faded away as she turned around. The lift doors closed with a ding, and suddenly, she was left alone in front of the apartment.

She drew her coat around her, shivering slightly even though she wasn't really feeling cold. Now that Joey was gone, she suddenly found herself daunted by the prospect of what she was going to do. She rocked on her heels, casting her eyes around the corridor –

Her eyes fell on the plant, and she started. He'd changed the plant sometime – she didn't even know if he'd done it when she was still living here – but she strode forward, intrigued by the flowers which had caught her eye.

She gasped when she neared, and the drooping flowers became visible. They were Easter Lilies – her favourites. The flowers just beginning to die out as the beginnings of winter set in. The prospect of talking to Ross suddenly became ten times more difficult.

She reached out and caressed one of the flowers with her fingers, feeling tears gathering at the corner of her eye. The man who was currently behind the door had done this for her, and she hadn't even noticed.

Just what else have I missed?

The door of the apartment opened, and she jumped like she'd been caught stealing.

"Rachel?" his voice was husky, like it would become when he drank too much, and it reminded her of things she would rather forget at that point in time. "What're you still doing here?"

"Oh, Ross," she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself before she spun around. "Just looking at this plant here. When'd you do this?"

"Oh, that," his voice became a touch higher, and she instinctively knew that she wasn't supposed to find out about it anymore. "Couple of months after Emma was born."

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say. She gestured to the bags in his hand. "Taking the trash out?"

He wavered slightly – he was still very obviously drunk; though by the looks of his face, he could already feel a hangover coming.

Maybe this is a bad time? She wondered, before steeling herself.

"It's now or never," she muttered to herself, before focusing her gaze on Ross. "Ross," she said, hoping that she sounded much more confident than she felt, "we need to talk."

He was taken aback by this – maybe because it was a statement she'd never uttered much during their relationship. For a long moment, he was silent, before he nodded.

"'Kay," he said, "why don't you go inside and wait, and I'll just chuck these out and return?" he asked, holding the large black bags up.

"Alright," she said, giving him a weak smile. She strode past him and entered the apartment which she had shared with him only months ago, taking a seat on the couch. She marvelled at how clean the room was – that was one of the things about Ross she had always liked; he was never a neat-freak like Monica, but he liked his room tidy and was a marvel at cleaning.

She suddenly remembered the time she'd taken his help to clean the loft at Monica's place. She giggled, remembering how they'd both screamed their lungs out at the gigantic spiders they'd found – him more so than her in some cases.

"What's so funny?" he asked her when he returned, and found her with a smile on her face.

"Nothing," she said, before she relented, "just remembering the time we tried to clean Monica's loft."

He snorted at that memory. "Not one of my manlier moments," he said, and she couldn't help but grin in agreement. "That loft never did get cleaned," he mused, as he walked over to the counter and started drinking copious amounts of water. It was a hangover remedy Chandler had introduced to the group, and despite the hazards it posed towards the bladder, it was an effective one.

"It didn't," she agreed softly, more memories flashing unbidden through her mind. Why was she remembering all of this now?"

There was another silence as he made his way to the couch and sat on the other end. Their eyes met, and she was sure that they weren't really talking about the loft anymore.

"So," he said, finally, "you said you wanted to –"

"Oh, yeah," she said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear, "yeah, I wanted to talk."

Now that she was here, she suddenly found herself tongue-tied, and unsure of what to say.

"Ross," she began, and then ruined it by finishing lamely, "we really need to talk."

"I think we already established that," he said with a small chuckle. She punched him on the arm, without any hostility in her action. "I guess you want to talk about the fact that I'm obviously not fine?"

"Ye – yeah," she said, taken aback by his sudden honesty. He noticed.

"I know," he said, smiling wistfully. "I know you know, Rach. Hell, I'm pretty sure Mrs. Razensky downstairs knows that I'm not fine, either."

"Anything I should know about?" she asked playfully, even though her heart was inexplicably heavy. She had missed this – they always had this easy banter that nobody else, even Chandler could achieve. It was what had made them the best of friends at one point of time – it was something that had waned ever so slightly over the years as the stress of their relationship took its toll on their friendship.

With Joey, it was all about loud jokes and pranks and living free – living easy. Ross had this ability to keep her content when they were getting along well; when they would forget about how much their relationship had damned their friendship.

"I hate our old relationship sometimes," she blurted out, and immediately regretted her words when she caught the look on his face. "Oh, honey," she hurried to correct herself before he reacted, "I didn't mean it like this. Look at this," she said, "I miss this. I miss our easy repartee. I miss the fact that you taught me new words like repartee all the time."

She was afraid that he'd taken offense to her initial statement, but he surprised her pleasantly by smiling softly.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes taking on a nostalgic look, "Yeah, I guess. We did get some of that back when we had Emma, though...or the months after Vegas..."

"But your jealousy ruined it," she stated it bluntly, baldly. Fuelled with newfound courage, she realized that if she ever wanted that friendship with him back, they would have to suffer through more than skinned egos and bruised prides that night.

She'd expected him to flare up, to retort sharply. He could always hit her where it hurt the most, and she could do exactly the same for him. His shoulder did stiffen for a second, but then all his energy seemed to leave him at once and he sagged.

"You're right," he said heavily, and her heart melted at the look on his face.

"Why, Ross?" she asked him. "Why would you let it get in the way?" This was a big issue, she knew – but it was something that they'd have to work past.

He stood up abruptly, and her heart sunk; he would rather walk out than have this talk – and she couldn't blame him. He surprised her again, though. He walked to the other side of the room, his back facing her as he looked out of the window.

His answer caught her off-guard. "Carol was my first love, you know –"

"Ross?" she questioned uncertainly, not sure where this was going.

"Carol," he said, his voice tinged with something she'd heard only rarely in him – defeat. "Was everything to me when I passed out of college. She was my world, and I was hers, and we made sure the whole world knew it. I loved her, the gang did as well –"

Rachel idly remembered something about Phoebe commenting once, on how she missed Carol in their get-togethers.

"I thought that I'd found the one, y'know," he said, and some foreign emotion tugged at her heart. She refused to let the thought enter the fact that she was jealous of the tenderness in her voice. "I thought that we'd be forever. And then, one day – one day, she just stops responding, y'know? She doesn't smile the same way she did before, she doesn't look at me the way she did, she – she no longer reacts the same way when we touch –"

She listened to him, entranced. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn't unloaded this on anyone, ever.

"Do you know what it feels like," he asked her, "to see the love of your life flinch away when you touch her? To catch repulsion flashing through her eyes when you caress her?"

"Ross –" she whispered, but he continued talking.

"I do," he said, "something like that, it leaves its mark on you. It opens some wounds that never really heal, Rach."

He turned around, and she was shocked to see his eyes swimming with tears.

"Oh, sweetie –" she made to get up, but he raised her arm and stopped her.

"Don't," he said, his voice choked, "I – I think I'm good here."

"But sweet-"

"No, Rach," he said, and it broke her heart to hear him sound like that.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding as genuine as she'd ever heard him sound. "I guess what I saw yesterday put some things in perspective. I'm sorry," he repeated again, and every word he said resonated with honesty.

She had always imagined a gigantic fight when she finally confronted Ross over this, but now she found herself unable to hold on to her resentment.

"Do you mean it?" she asked him, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

His brown eyes met hers, and she breathed in at the intensity of emotion she saw in them. That was a thing that she'd never seen anybody else replicate – that ability to say so much with their eyes alone.

"Every word," he said, "not a day goes by when I wish that I had been a better person, a better friend, a better boyfriend –"

"But you were!" she cut him off, "You were, Ross." Once more, she felt her eyes swimming with tears, and did her best to hold them back. "I couldn't have asked for better –"

"You deserved better," he said firmly. "I was paranoid –"

"And you never told me why!" she said, finally feeling a bit of the anger she had been expecting. "You never said why, you idiot! D'you think it would have been the same if you'd just told me this before?"

"When have we ever talked about things before, Rachel?" he asked drily, but she saw through him easily. He was putting up as much of a fake front as she was.

Something else struck her at that moment, and she reeled from the shock of it.

"You said that the person you loved flinched away from you..." she said, her voice low and horrified. "I did the same, didn't I?"

The question hung in the air, and she felt almost ill when he answered. "You did."

"But," he continued, like he couldn't see the turmoil raging within her, "I deserved it."

"No, Ross!" she exclaimed, realizing how horrible it must've been for him. With another jolt, she realized how selfishly he'd taken all his friends away from him at that time as well. They'd been off on a ski trip, and he'd been stuck seeking counsel from...Carol. It clicked for her at that moment, and she hated herself. "Nobody deserves that," she ended with a whisper.

"I know what you're thinking," he replied, "and it wasn't that bad. And I did cheat on you, Rachel."

"I thought we were on a break?" she said, cracking a wan smile.

He didn't return it. "I guess we'll always have different definitions of the word. But you didn't help matters either, Rach."

"I didn't," she agreed softly, "I should have made more time for you –"

"No, Rachel," he said, stopping her speech harshly. "Time was never the major issue. It was Mark –"

"There was never something between Mark and me!" she protested, feeling her own temper rise. Why was it that they always ended up stuck in this rut?

"He wanted to sleep with you, Rachel!" he said, his voice rising.

"But I didn't!" she yelled back in protest.

"But he did!" he roared back in protest. "Did you ever think how I saw the entire matter? He gives you this fantastic job where you spend hours with him in your department, you don't return my calls half the time, I call you when we were taking that goddamned break and I hear his voice in the background!"

"You should have trusted me!" She screamed back at him, "you should have believed that I loved you!"

"It was never you I didn't trust!" he yelled right back at her, "it was him –"

"That didn't stop you from assuming that I was sleeping with him when you called –"

"I was drunk out of my mind!"

"You turned up in my office and set fire to my papers!"

"THERE WAS A RING IN THAT BASKET!"

The world froze. Rachel suddenly found that she was unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to process what he'd just said.

"Wh – what?" she asked, her voice so low that Ross almost didn't catch it. There was nothing but regret on his face; he'd never planned to let her know.

"N- nothing," he said, suddenly avoiding her gaze.

"Say that again," she growled, suddenly angrier than she'd ever been in her life.

"Say what -?" he tried to ask, innocently.

"Say it again!" she yelled, making him jump.

"Th – there was a ring in that basket," he said quietly, looking down at his feet now, "I was going to propose to you that day."

All of her anger drained out of her at his words; she slumped back into the sofa, unable to find the strength to remain standing any longer.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked, looking up at him, searching his eyes for an answer.

"It didn't seem fair to you," he mumbled, and he too crumpled onto the couch, next to her.

None of them spoke for a long time. "Look at us," he said, finally. "Still fighting over something that happened seven years ago."

"That was the worst night of my life, Ross," she said quietly, admitting something that she never had before.

His reply, when it came, was short and succinct. "I know."

"What do we do about it, then?" she asked, "how do we get past this?"

Ross clasped his hands together, looking down at them. "You know, the morning after; you came to my house and asked me if you could be my girlfriend again...I never realized it that day, but I've relived that day too many times over the years."

She knew what he was talking about – she'd done the same.

"So, deep down, somewhere," he said, like he wasn't sure how she would take it, "you know you meant that –"

"We really were on a break," she said, suddenly feeling very, very tired. She remembered saying that sentence, now. "Why didn't you tell me this before, Ross?" Things could have been so much different...

"I thought it wouldn't make a difference," he said sadly. "But, if you want, I'll never bring up the fact that you did agree in the end."

She giggled; she couldn't help it. "I don't believe this."

"Neither do I," he said, "I always thought that we'd get back together when this was finally sorted out..."

"Ross –"

"I know, Rach," he said, his voice now serious, "I won't lie and say I'm fine –"

"Yeah, because that didn't go well," Rachel said with a grin, and he snorted anyway.

"But I will be." And for once, she could believe her. "Does he make you happy? Joey?"

She thought of the answer to the question, and how she could pose it to him.

"Yes," she said, nodding finally. "Being with Joey," her eyes took on a faraway look, "it's easy, Ross. It's like getting a third chance, you know, and you don't get that very often. He's a clean slate, a fresh start –"

"I seriously hope you aren't comparing me to Barry –"

"Well, you are both Doctors –"

"Rachel," his voice held a mock-warning tone, and she relented.

"Alright, but you know what I mean, Ross." She said, and she smiled. "Joey loves me, Ross, more than I could ever expect in my age or situation. He took me in when I left," she swallowed, "and he never once complained. He stopped bringing girls over, made an effort for me – he shared his sandwich with me –"

"Whoa, that's big," Ross said, and there was no false humour in his tone.

"I know, right?" she said, the smile on her face growing. "And he's there every morning when I get up with a smile on his face, and I know that I can get through the day with him by my side, you know? There's always this light-heartedness; and we have so much in common!" she exclaimed, enthusiastically. "Let's face it, the both of us are pretty low in the intelligence chart –"

"Not going to argue with that," Ross said with a goofy grin.

She punched him weakly in the arm again, "but we just click," she finished. "It just happened, between us. It was natural, Ross."

"You love him," Ross said, his voice sad. Rachel stopped short, taken aback by his words.

"Ross, I –"

"You do, Rach," he said, smiling now. "We had our turn, and I think you deserve your happiness now. Go for it. Go, and tell him how you feel –"

"But you –"

"I'll get over it, Rachel," he said, still smiling that sad, small smile. "I love you, and that means I want you to be happy. Besides, I can be your best friend now, right?"

"Yes," she replied, feeling lighter than she had in years – it was all working out now. "Like we once were. The best."

"You bet," he said. "Give me some time."

"Take all you need, Ross," she said sincerely. "This couldn't have gone better," she told him, meaning every word of it. "Thank you, for everything." She leaned forward to kiss him, but he surprised her by moving away.

"Not just yet, Rach," he said, "I can't – not now."

"Of course," she said, "but thank you, Ross."

"Anytime, Rach," he said, smiling that goofy grin that melted her heart. "You know I love you, right?"

She could see that it was costing him to do this, and she had never been prouder of having a friend like this.

"And I love you," she said. "Just –"

"Just not in the same way you love Joey," he finished, "I understand. So, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "Go, tell him!"

"Should I?" she asked, suddenly feeling both nervous and exhilarated at the same time. "You don' think it's early?"

"You've known him ten years, Rach," he said with a chuckle, "don't let it get too late with him, too."

"You're right!" she said, clasping her hands together on her chest. "You're right, I'll go tell him!"

She jumped up from her seat, and hugged him tightly when he followed suit. Before he could react, she kissed him on the cheek and pulled away swiftly, smiling impishly up at him.

"Best friends?" she asked him, feeling like she could sing with joy.

"Best friends," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Now go before Joey decides you're on a break."

Silence. Then the two of them winced in unison.

"Bad taste?" Ross asked weakly.

"Very," she said with a grin.

He walked her to the door, giving her the coat. "I guess this is it, then?" he said. "The end of Ross and Rachel. We're off the table, forever."

Something about the way he said it gripped her heart. "Maybe I can ask Jill out now," he said with a weak grin.

"What do you mean?" she questioned him, and if her words came out a bit quicker than she intended, she ignored it.

"Well, y'know," he said, "I never reciprocated Jill's advances because I thought that there'd always be a chance for us, somewhere in the future. But now that you're with Joey –"

Something slammed into her heart with the force of a brick wall. Her soaring spirits suddenly fell, and the hallway seemed to become just a bit dimmer.

"...give her a call."

Ross was speaking, but she wasn't really listening. She'd talked to him, ensured that they would be best friends again – but this? Off the table? Forever? Ross and Rachel?

"Now, you go tell Joe!" he said, grasping her shoulder.

She nearly jumped in shock. "Oh – oh, yeah," she said lamely. And we're back to square one, she thought in despair, as she gave him a giant, fake grin and gave him another hug goodnight.

The door slammed shut behind her with a ringing finality, and Rachel stood there with blank, unseeing eyes and a storm of raging emotions within her.

The world seemed to pass by her in a detached fashion as she walked down the corridor and took the lift, walking out into the alleyway like a robot.

It wasn't until she hit the main road that her brain began functioning somewhat. She thought she heard her name being called and turned around, but it was for somebody else.

You love him. Ross' voice floated through her mind. Of course she loved Joey, there was no doubt about that.

Off the table, forever. She had not thought of it that way. She couldn't lie – even on her darkest days, she had never discounted the idea of Ross and her getting back together one day. For God's sakes, they were Ross and Rachel!

Unbidden, she thought of her Frankie Say Relax T-shirt. She loved it; she still wore it to bed almost every night. Would she be able to do so anymore, without thinking of Ross and what could have been, and what could be?

The thought of bed made her think of Joey, who was waiting for her to return from Ross' place. Dear, sweet Joey, who had never once wavered in his loyalty to her.

She thought of her deal with Phoebe about back-ups; how she'd exchanged Joey for Ross without thinking. Would she be able to stop thinking of him that way, accept the fact that there would be no Ross and Rachel in her future?

The tears finally came, escaping the corner of her eye and making their way down her face. The place she was standing in suddenly became a crossroad.

Turn left, and she would return to Joey, waiting eagerly for her – probably waiting with a picture book she could read both to Emma and her. She loved how Joey would hang on to every word of hers, how he'd converse with Emma about how great the story was.

Turn right, and she could go back to Ross; she was sure that he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. Ross was always the hopeless romantic; she would be kidding herself if she didn't believe that he was still waiting for her on that couch, to come back and fall into his arms.

But there was never the struggle with Joey. He never sniped at her, he treated her like a queen, he loved Emma like his own daughter.

But Emma was Ross' own daughter. And Ross was brilliant with her; he loved her more than life itself. And despite the fact that Ross could be edgy – and that she secretly enjoyed giving as good as she got – he had never treated her badly as well.

But Ross had cheated. But that was complicated – was she really any better? Sabotaging him every time he had a stable relationship – that was something he'd never mentioned, but something she could not realistically deny. They were bad for each other in so many ways, but they were so good in the rest. Could she trust Ross never to betray her again? If only the circumstances of their break had been clearer...

But Joey – she'd never had any trouble with him. Sure, he acted stupid at times, but that was also one of the most lovable things about him. She knew that he would never betray her, never cheat...but wasn't that the same thing that she'd thought about Ross at the very beginning? Besides, she wouldn't be reading fairytales with him forever – she knew after all these years that the shine wore off on such things eventually.

She could laugh endlessly with Joey. Ross made her content.

She loved Joey. She loved Ross.

She knew that the both of them loved her.

With Joey, the world was black and white. Simple.

With Ross, the world was a mix of many different hues of grey.

Joey. Ross.

Left. Right.

Rachel and Joey.

Ross and Rachel.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly; the tears were coming hard and fast now.

She thought of calling Phoebe – she'd been in a similar situation with David and Mike. And then her friends words came back to her.

I see myself growing old with him.

Who did she see herself growing old with?

The answer came to her in a flash, and at that instant she knew that he loved him more than anybody else.

Left for Joey. Right for Ross.

Rachel turned.

Finis